I’ll let you get back to work.
Flynn:
Actually, do you have any tips on how to get this black box out of the kick panel with giant hands…
Bailey:
Sorry, man. My experience with large hands is limited. Perhaps you can give me some more this weekend ;)
“I thought you were taking a lunch break?”
Holden’s voice made me jump. He’d closed himself into his office an hour ago to work on billing. I hadn’t heard him come out.
I glanced at the clock. Almost 1:00 p.m. Shit.
“Lost track of time, I guess.” I hid my phone in my pocket and gestured to the Malibu. Thanks to other jobs, it’d been on the back burner for a few days. “I was just trying to finish this alarm system disconnect that Bailey diagnosed.”
My heart jumped when I said Bailey’s name—as if Holden would guess from the sound alone that I’d put my hands all over his baby brother.
Thankfully, Holden wasn’t a mind reader, so he didn’t know all the dirty things I’d done with Bailey or all the naughty texts we’d exchanged since then.
My phone burned in my back pocket, evidence of my crime.
Holden chuckled. “He wasn’t lying about it being a bitch, huh?”
“No, but I’ll get it done.”
“Finish it later. You’ve been hard at it all morning.” Holden shook his head. “Gray is out with Emory. Axel is god knows where. You shouldn’t be working harder than the owners.”
The owners didn’t have to prove themselves. The owners didn’t have to earn their place here every day.
But I couldn’t explain that to Holden. I didn’t want to complain about the temporary nature of my position because it really was a great opportunity, even if it stressed me the fuck out. I also didn’t want to ask him about my future, because what if it put him in an awkward position? He might not be ready to tell me what I wanted to hear.
No, I just had to put in the work and hope that it would speak for itself.
“I’ll take a break in a few minutes,” I promised.
He looked as if he would insist I take it now when a rusted-out junker rolled into the parking lot, drawing our attention. Its muffler was loud as fuck, and for a minute, I assumed they were probably here for a repair.
Then Snake got out. Shit. What was he doing here?
He came into the open garage bay. “Hey there.”
“Hi,” Holden said. “How can we help you?”
Snake flashed an irritatingly perfect grin that put folks at ease and strode toward Holden, hand out.
Holden’s whole body went tense, but he didn’t move away. He had to deal with touchy customers from time to time. He could handle it when necessary.
But the idea of Snake putting a hand on Holden turned my stomach.
I intercepted him.
“Hey, man!” I grabbed his shoulder, leaning in as if I was happy to see him. “I’m surprised to see you here.”
“Oh, you know. I wanted to see where all the magic happens.” He pulled away and turned toward Holden. “You all have a great operation here. You own the junkyard too, right?”
“Yeah, we do. You looking for a part?”
